


.gorgeous

by sanchan06



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanchan06/pseuds/sanchan06
Summary: Inspired by Mongie's Valentine's Day Sketch. Sam unexpectedly runs into her childhood crush, Charles Jones, when her father brings him home for a business dinner. She once gave him her (paper) heart, but could he accept it this time around? Childhood AU.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Kudos: 37





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Needed an angst break. Always and Forever thanks to my beta Freya/eagle/strawberry jelly <3

\--

_Ocean blue eyes looking in mine_  
_I feel like I might sink and drown and die_

_You're so gorgeous_  
_I can't say anything to your face (to your face)_  
_'Cause look at your face (look at your face)_

_And I'm so furious_  
_At you for making me feel this way_  
_But what can I say?_  
_You're gorgeous_

_\---_

“Sam?” She heard her mom’s voice as she came in through the garage, carrying groceries and laundry she brought home from her dorm. Her arms full, Sam tossed the laundry bag into the mudroom and kicked off her shoes. She left the garage door ajar; Jay-Jay was close behind, grabbing the rest of her things and the groceries for tonight’s Young Family Dinner.

“Just got back, when’s Dad coming home?” Sam replied as set the groceries on the kitchen island, momentarily distracted by an incoming text from Angela exclaiming how she was done with finals for dental hygienist school.

It wouldn’t be too long before they were all done with school; Dee in business, Vikki in physiology and Sam with computer science. They had spent so much time discussing their future plans. Dee wanted to help her mom expand their bakery to include a local chain of coffee shops, Vikki wanted to open her own yoga studio, Angela was planning on working as a hygienist for her brother’s girlfriend’s pediatric dental practice, and Sam, well she figured she’d work for her dad’s company. At least until she could become a game designer. She’d had to pause working on Ruminate with graduation on the horizon and hoped to submit to Indigineer sometime soon, but it seemed ages away. 

“He should be back in an hour, he had to pick someone up from the airport.” Sam glanced at her mother curiously while putting away the groceries. Samantha was busy prepping all of their favorite meals, including, unbeknownst to Sam, a special dish for their arriving guest. “Do you remember the high school exchange student from Wales who stayed with Ray-Ray?” Samantha asked while inspecting the various simmering pots on the large stove.

“What about Ray-Ray?” Jay entered the kitchen while Sam stood frozen in place. Ray-Ray was Jay’s high school best friend and college roommate who was currently finishing his PhD in biochemical engineering (or something along those lines, neither Sam or Jay could keep up with the self-proclaimed ‘crazy mad scientist’). He leaned down to place a quick peck on his mother’s offered cheek.

“Oh, I was telling Sam that your father’s at the airport picking up the exchange student who stayed with Ray-Ray when you were in high school.”

“Charles Jones?” Jay groaned as he set down the remaining groceries on the granite countertop, and Sam’s backpack and overnight bag on the floor. Jay recalled the intense, albeit, one-sided rivalry with the towheaded prick, who seemed to outperform him in academics, sports, girls (he had claimed to have a girlfriend back home which only seemed to exponentially increase his local fanbase). Valentine’s Day was a living nightmare with that guy on the receiving end of practically every letter, rose and homemade chocolate from his female (even some male) classmates. All of which he would politely decline out of respect for his girlfriend back home. It wasn’t like Jay to hold a grudge, but when it came to Charles Jones, it was the closest he may ever get. “What’s Dad doing picking up that jerkface?”

“Samuel James Young Jr.,” Jay wilted under his mother’s glare, “I will not stand for your attitude over whatever petty squabbles you may still hold against our guest. Besides,” Samantha quirked an eyebrow, “That ‘jerkface’ helped you pass your AP exams after even Ray-Ray said you were ‘totally hopeless,’ so behave,” she emphasized with a strong poke to her son’s side, who replied with a mumbled, “Yes, Mom.” She looked at her daughter, watching her wipe her palms against her jeans with jerky, nearly spastic movements. “Sam, honey, why don’t you go upstairs and rest for a bit, Jay-Jay can help me with the rest of dinner.”

‘Y-yeah,” Sam nodded in agreement, suddenly wanting a shower. Everything felt damp and sticky with nervous sweat as soon as Jay-Jay mentioned Charles Jones. “I’ll be back,” She grabbed her things and rushed towards the stairs, memories of her first childhood crush dashing behind her.

Letting the warm water run over her figure, Sam washed and scrubbed furiously in an attempt to distract herself from the faded memories coming into focus, of ocean blue eyes, blonde hair, tapered fingertips effortlessly brushing over piano keys, and a gentle smile, brighter than the winter sun. A fairytale prince brought to life in her living room with Jay-Jay, Ray-Ray and the rest of their group working on school projects or preparing for exams.

As she dried herself off, Sam remembered sitting on the staircase, peering between the banister railings to catch a glimpse of the fair-haired Welshman, sometimes listening to him explain pre-calculus formulas in his accented voice to a befuddled gathering of teenagers, things she understood clearly even at that age. She also remembered the few times Charles’ eyes drifted over to her, their gazes locking briefly before she escaped to her room after being discovered.

Quickly blow-drying her hair, Sam thought back to the first time she heard him playing the piano in the formal sitting room. She and her mom had gotten home from a doctor’s appointment when she heard faint music in the entryway, which she thought was strange considering her mom was the only one in their family who played. As soon as they entered the sitting room, both Sam and her mother stood for several moments, enraptured by the sound of Charles playing, and then equally dismayed when he stopped upon realizing he had an unexpected audience. Brushing past Charles’ apologies for playing without permission, her mom somehow convinced both Sam and Charles to agree to weekly piano lessons. And although she was a terrible student, Sam looked forward to those lessons every Thursday afternoon, and the 45 minutes she got to spend with her fairytale prince.

In between attempting _Fir Alise_ and _Part of Your Realm_ from _The Smallest Siren,_ Charles would tell her the differences between the United States and Wales, how people drove on the other side of the road and called cookies, ‘biscuits.’ He told her stories of his grandparents’ farm, his favorite lamb, Bunty, and how sometimes he really missed his mom, his friends and girlfriend back home. It thrilled and saddened her when he would share the details of his life, his family, the girl he loved.

Of course, the prince would have a princess waiting for him on the other side of the world. But still, she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if she were older, prettier, with long dark curling hair, holding hands and eating ice cream together. But that’s all she could allow herself to do. Pretend. Make-believe. Fantasy. Up until she had to mess it all up and give him that silly handmade Valentine’s Day card.

She knew it was hopeless, the first of several hopeless crushes to come. But she thought her heart would burst if she didn’t tell him just how important he was to her. And of course, he accepted the card and was kind and appreciative of her silly gesture. But then afterwards, he went back to Wales and their time together came to an end.

What was wrong with her? Sam shook her head, tossing what was most likely expired mascara into the trash can. Practically flummoxed over a guy who happened to be kind to her, who treated her like a person, not just Jay-Jay’s kid sister. Who didn't look at her with pity for being the sad, sick rich girl. It was so long ago, a part of her wondered if it really happened or was just a made up memory, a faded bright spot between hospitalizations, sick days, and waking dreams of a gentle, golden-haired prince. 

But apparently he _was_ real and coming over for dinner. “Get a grip, Sam.” She murmured to herself, opening her closet and grabbing a random dress tucked away in the back instead of her usual baggy but comfortable clothes. She told herself it was nothing. That maybe she wanted to dress a little nicer than usual since they were having a visitor. That maybe she was curious to see if the man from her memory was just that, a fond memory, vastly different from who he was now compared to her first childhood crush. She threw the dress on, noting how much tighter it was around her chest compared to when her mom had brought it home for her to try on. Sam ran her fingers through her short cap of hair, barely glancing at her reflection in the mirror and heading downstairs, before she could convince herself to change out of the burgundy smock.

Sam followed the voices coming from the kitchen, recognizing the familiar boom of her dad, scoffs from Jay-Jay, playful teasing from her mom, and then her heart doing a one-two-skip when she heard that deeply accented voice. The very same that taught her how to position her hands over the keys while practicing her scales. The one that convinced her to play hooky one afternoon when her mother was away on errands and play MaryoBuggy, congratulating her for beating him instead of pouting like Jay-Jay did because she was better at video games than him. The one who had thanked her for the Valentine’s Day card, apologetic that he couldn’t be her Valentine. 

Mentally scolding herself, Sam took a quick cleansing breath before entering the kitchen. She was being silly. He might’ve been her childhood crush, but he was still just a guy. And it had been over a decade since she last saw him. He could be married with a family on the way. He could be rude and condescending. He could be fat and bald. He could be-

Sam’s eyes focused on the man nearly shoulder to shoulder with her dad, wearing a navy jumper, feathered blonde hair slicked back in loose waves, piercing blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. Eyes now centered on her. “Samara?” A slow, brilliant smile grew as recognition spread throughout his features.

He could be just as gorgeous as he was then, putting all of her memories and fantasies to shame. 

Dammit.

Sam tugged at the fabric of her dress. “Hi Charles,” she greeted nervously.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II from a shared perspective. After more than a decade away, Charles returned to the U.S. to find a new start with a new job, but perhaps he'll find a new beginning too. After all, nothing quite helps a mending heart like ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fat Tuesday, hope you enjoy the extra sweetness. And always and forever to my Freya/soul-sister/ twinny/eagle/strawberry jelly<3

\---

 _You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah  
_ _There's nothing I hate more than that I can't have  
_ _You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad_

 _You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah  
_ _There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have  
_ _Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats_

_Alone._

_Unless you wanna come along?_

\---

Charles mentally stumbled on seeing Samara enter the kitchen, trying to reconcile the girl he’d once given piano lessons with the beautiful woman he saw before him. Russet orbs, nearly the shade of a fine brandy, pursed full lips, and a slender frame, the hint of curves barely disguised by the snug material gathered around her figure. Charles momentarily wondered if his fingertips could encircle her waist, to pull her close. Then just as quickly, he schooled his features into casual disinterest as if sensing a now menacing aura beginning to emerge from the man who picked him up from the airport, Samara’s father and his potential future employer, Samuel Young. “Your parents were telling me you’ll be graduating soon.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m majoring in computer sciences.” Sam tried to look away, suddenly shy and self-conscious, but also keenly aware of his gaze on her. All of her. It was strange, being unaccustomed to any sort of attention having gone mostly unnoticed, dating life non-existent. Granted that was also on her part. Given her main priorities involved school and Ruminate, she hadn’t paid too much attention to her appearance. And yet, as odd and unfamiliar as it was, a part of her secretly enjoyed knowing she had his focus, his attention. Still, another part of her wished she’d grabbed one of her cardigans, a pathetic attempt at a safety net, but a shred of protection nevertheless. 

“Oh, to be a game designer?” Sam’s heart did another one-two-skip. Did he actually remember what her dream job was as a kid?

“Now Jones, Sam will be joining us at Young Tech and eventually take over when she’s ready,” Samuel corrected him, “Aren’t you pumpkin?”

The flinch in Samara’s shoulders didn’t go unnoticed by Charles. “Y-yeah.” She replied, dark eyes askance. 

“Then we may be colleagues one day.” Samara’s gaze snapped back to Charles, “I’m actually here applying for the General Manager position at Young Technologies.”  
  
“Well it’s just a formality at this point, isn’t it dear?” Samantha was eying the braised lamb nearly finished in the pressure cooker, “Samuel wouldn’t have asked you to fly all the way here if he didn’t think you were suited for the job.”

Samuel reluctantly hummed in agreement with his dear heart, “You are certainly the most qualified, but I still need to conduct the final interviews with the board.”

“I appreciate the opportunity all the same,” Charles inclined his head, “And for inviting me over for dinner. It’s been a long journey here from Wales.”  
  
“Why did you come back?” Jay inquired, mildly annoyed but also somewhat curious about his one-time rival’s return to the U.S.

“I was hoping to find a fresh start. New beginnings.” Charles replied, smiling faintly. “My former employer mentioned there was an opening with your father’s company and it was a good opportunity.”  
  
“She spoke highly of you, but said it was a shame to let you go.” Samuel had read the recommendation from Charles’ previous supervisor, but was still mildly suspicious regarding the circumstances leading to his departure. 

“I think that’s enough shoptalk tonight, I’m sure you’ll grill Charles plenty during the final interviews.” Samantha brushed her hands against her apron. “Dinner should be ready soon, darling,” she turned to her husband, “If you and Jay could help with tidying up the kitchen and Sam, you and Charles help set the table,” Before anyone in their little gathering could object, Samantha helpfully nudged Sam and Charles towards the formal dining room through the butler’s pantry. As the wooden panel swung shut behind them, Sam and Charles found themselves alone. Together. 

“I supposed we should get started?” Charles suggested, moving towards a side cabinet where he assumed he’d find the fine china. 

“Right. Um.” To be perfectly honest, she was probably just as clueless as Charles about where her mom’s ‘only for special occasions’ dinner plates were stored, opening several cabinets before finding the aforementioned plates while Charles found the cutlery drawer. They worked alongside each other silently and efficiently.

After accomplishing their given task, they both stood in silence for several moments. Sam fidgeted with the buttons on her dress, unsure of what to do or say next. Until Charles saw the familiar piano in the adjacent sitting room. “Did you continue your lessons after I left?”

“No, I think I was more interested in video games than piano playing.” Sam replied honestly as he lifted the fallboard and trailed his hand along the piano keys.

“Probably for the best, you weren’t a very good student.” 

Sam almost objected, but the retort died on her lips after seeing the familiar smirk on Charles’ face while trying to suppress a laugh. “No, you’re right, I was terrible.”

“Do you remember some of the things I taught you?” Charles sat on the piano bench and began idly playing several notes. “It would’ve been a shame if all the time we spent together was for naught.”

“I remember everything.” Sam replied earnestly, then quickly retreated at the surprise on Charles’ face. “I mean, I remember a few things, but I still have trouble playing certain chords, cause,” she wiggled her fingers.

“Yes,” Charles reached out and compared his hand to Samara’s, “You have very small hands.”

Sam stepped towards him, pressing her palm to his, “Y-your hand is so much bigger than mine.”

Charles curled his fingertips around hers as she clutched his hand, “I doubt you’d be playing piano concertos by Rachmaninov any time soon. But I suppose it’s for the best since it seems you were more successful pursuing your passions elsewhere.”

“I-I suppose.”

Charles looked up at Samara, her eyes downcast. “You’re about to graduate with a degree in an area you dreamed of working in since you were a child. These are things you should be proud of. Unless,” Charles paused thoughtfully, “Taking over your father’s company isn't something you want, is it Samara?”

Sam couldn’t stop the shiver along her spine as she sat beside Charles on the piano bench, suddenly hit by a flash of deja vu to when they’d first sat together like this. 

_“So everyone in your family is named, ‘Sam’?” Charles quirked an eyebrow at his diminutive student. “Does it get confusing sometimes?”_

_Sam thought carefully. She hadn’t really thought of it that way before. “Well my dad goes by Samuel, my mom is Samantha, then there’s Jay-Jay and me.” Sam chewed on her inner cheek. “But if it’s confusing for you, you can call me Samara.” She offered her piano instructor. “You’re the only one who’s allowed to call me that though,” she nodded her head firmly._

_“Thank you, Samara, I’m honored.” Normally, she didn’t like people using her full name. They either didn’t pronounce it right, or made fun of her for having a weird name. But when Charles said it, Sam felt something warm in her chest. As if she were glowing brightly._

“No,” Sam admitted quietly, “I don’t want to, but I don’t have the heart to tell him. N-not yet. He’d be so disappointed. Plus there’s still a lot I can learn working at my dad’s company in regard to programming and running a business, if I can become a game designer.”

“Well,” Charles mused, glancing at their still interlocked fingers, “If I get the job at Young Technologies, I will do what I can to help you with whatever path you decide to follow.”

“R-really?” Sam nearly gaped in surprise. “Y-you would do that for me?”

“Of course, anything for my former student.” Charles was caught off guard when she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him enthusiastically at his offer. He encircled an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. “I haven’t gotten the job yet, Samara.” He chuckled.

“It’s like my mom said, practically a technicality at this point.” Sam leaned back, grinning widely. “I just have so many ideas, there’s this game I’m currently developing, I call it _Ruminate_ cause instead of it being a hack-and-slash RPG, it’s like an old-school adventure game that focuses on puzzle-solving, riddles and brain-teasers,”  
  
“Where the player _ruminates_ over finding a solution to advance to the next level?” 

“Yes!” Sam giggled, almost giddy that Charles immediately understood, “I had to take a break for exams, but I’m in the final stages of the game, then beta-testing to make sure it runs smoothly, oh-” A light blush traced her cheeks when she realized just how close she was to Charles, able to see flecks of green and gold amidst the blue of his eyes as their shoulders pressed together, her hands resting on his forearm. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” Sam immediately withdrew, attempting to put some distance between them on the piano bench. How clueless was she, throwing herself at a practical stranger, fairly certain the blush was now spreading to the rest of her body, the tips of her ears burning. “I’m sure you d-don’t want to listen to me ramble about coding and graphics interface.”

“Don’t apologize for something you’re clearly passionate about,” Charles unconsciously tucked a stray lock behind Samara’s ear, his knuckles brushing her cheek when she turned her head towards him, doe-shaped eyes widening at his touch. He held his hand there for the briefest moment before dropping it back onto the piano bench. “And if I’m going to help you in the future, I might need to learn more about coding and graphics interface.”

There it was, the glow in her chest, bursts of sunlight spreading to her fingertips. Just like she remembered. Then the doubt sank in, skepticism starkly contrasting childish optimism. It couldn’t be that easy. Could it? “I’m sure you’ll be really busy learning your new job, if you get the job,” Sam corrected herself, “Y-you don’t have to humor me, Charles.” How could someone like _him_ want to spend time with someone like _her_ ?  
  
“Samara,” Charles said firmly, his eyes locked on hers, “I don’t appreciate being called a liar. And I’d like to think I’m a man of my word.” People may say other things, unsavory things about him. But in this instance, it was true. He may have said it in jest initially, but seeing her enthusiasm, the spark of joy in her eyes as she spoke animatedly about Ruminate, he wanted it to be true for Samara. To make promises without compromise or pretense. For this woman, who despite the many years spent apart, somehow still looked at him with warmth and wonder. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “So if I say I’m going to help you, I will. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

They held each other’s gazes until the side panel opened, causing them to leap apart. Charles was somewhat relieved at Mrs. Young’s appearance when she emerged from the butler’s pantry. A second longer, well, Charles was unsure what would’ve happened. Not that anything would’ve happened on his part. Samara was the daughter of his potential future employer, the younger sister of his former classmate, the girl he once tried to teach _Fir Alise_ on this very piano. The girl who summoned all of her courage to give him a handmade valentine. _But she’s not a girl._ A voice echoed from a distant corner of his mind. _Not anymore._

There was something wrong with him. The jet lag. Time difference. Anything to explain the stirring of emotions, the growing curiosity he felt about the young woman he’d once held brotherly affection for. So much time had passed and yes, they were essentially strangers at this point. But he couldn’t help but wonder _if._

If Mrs. Young hadn’t come in a second later. If Charles had leaned in a little closer. If Samara’s lips were as soft as they looked.

 _Get a grip, Jones,_ he internally scolded himself as Mrs. Young approached them.

“The darndest thing,” Samantha leaned against the doorframe, “I completely forgot to ask you guys to buy ice cream for the _tarte tatin._ Can you and Charles pick up a pint at Valentine’s? I’m sure Charles could use the practice learning how to drive on the opposite side of the road again.”

Sam eyed her mom curiously. “I thought I just saw some in the freezer?”

“No, your dad finished it earlier.”

“Can Dad get it?”

“I just sent him to get my favorite wine, but the store’s in the opposite direction.”

“What about Jay-Jay?”

“Actually, his friend who was supposed to cover his shift tonight called out sick, so he’s heading back to the hospital.”

“That’s...very convenient.” She had wondered why neither Young had tried to sneak up on her and Charles, knowing their absurdly overprotective natures, especially towards other men where Sam was involved.

“It’s no trouble Mrs. Young, I’m sure Samara can tell me how to get to...Valentine’s?”

“Yes, they have the most divine honey lavender ice cream, which will go perfectly with the _tarte_. It’s just down the road.”

“We’ll be off then.”

\---

Sam looked out of the window of Charles’ rental as they pulled up in front of Valentine’s, her mom’s favorite local ice cream parlor. “Thanks for driving, I’m sorry my mom roped you into taking me.”

“Like I told your mother, it’s no trouble at all. It’s the least I can do for all of the effort she’s putting into this dinner.” Charles said, shifting the car into park.

“Yeah, she tends to go all out for Young Family Dinner night. But it’s been tough for all of us to meet between Dad’s work, her new job, Jay-Jay finishing residency and me at school. So when we can get together, it’s like 4 meals in one night.” Sam unbuckled her seat belt and exited the car.

Charles stepped out and glanced at the bold red letters stenciled across the store front. “I think I remember this place,” he vaguely recalled stopping by after school with Ray and their classmates a time or two.

“Yeah, Jay-Jay used to take all of his high school dates here, after movies and pizza.”

“Well he wasn’t the most imaginative back then.” Charles looked over at Samara who was struggling not to smirk at her brother’s expense. “Although, I do remember they make exceptional sundaes. Would you like one?”

Sam blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?”

“A sundae, we might as well since we’re here.”

“To pick up ice cream, not spoil our dinner.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine if we split, a split.” Samara started laughing, leaving Charles rather confused. Granted he thought the pun was amusing, but not side- _splitting_. “Samara?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Sam tried, but it was to no avail, unable to stop the peals of laughter as Charles walked up to her. It was absurd. Absolutely absurd. “It’s just, I’m pretty sure you don’t remember this,” her shoulders shook, unsure whether she was holding back laughter or tears, “But back when you were my piano instructor, I had the biggest crush on you.” 

Sam crossed her arms tightly around her elbows, not wanting to see Charles’ expression as the words, a decade of unspoken feelings spilled forth. “I even made you a Valentine’s Day card asking if we could go here together,” she gestured to the ice cream parlor, “Even though I knew you had a girlfriend back in Wales and there was no way you’d ever acknowledge my feelings.” She gave a watery laugh. “I was a silly girl with a silly crush where all I wanted to do was hold your hand and maybe go out for ice cream.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Do you still want to hold my hand?” He offered it to her, palm upturned. “And I couldn’t take you out for ice cream then, but I can make up for it now.”

Sam looked at Charles apprehensively. She expected awkward politeness. Cool indifference. A gentle but firm rejection. Not reaching for her with kind eyes and a warm smile. “I’m sure there’s plenty of other girls you could have ice cream with.”

“There isn’t.”

“What?”  
  
“There isn’t anyone I’m..having ice cream with. There hasn’t been for a long time.” He admitted quietly. “It’s partly why I’m here. Gwen...”

“Wasn’t that your girlfriend from high school?” 

“Ah yes,” Samara kept surprising him with what she remembered. “She and I...Things didn’t end under the best circumstances.”

“Were you...?” Sam didn’t mean to pry but it shocked her, how someone like Gwen could let go of someone like Charles.  
  
“No, not married.” He clarified. “We almost did right after high school, but my grandfather talked me out of it. That’s why I left early.” He hardly had enough time to say goodbye to the friends he made here, even resorting to a note he left for Ray to give to Mrs. Young and inform her that he was unable to continue piano lessons with Samara. “He got sick and we weren’t sure if he was going to make it but he’s better now. Then we decided to wait, and maybe we waited too long, but at some point she...She ended it.” He balled his open palm into a fist. 

Sam uncrossed her arms and stepped closer to Charles, her hands cupping his clenched fist. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time coming. But my life had revolved around her for so long, I wasn’t sure where to go, what direction I needed to follow. Then I found out about the job at Young Tech, and-”

“Fresh start. New beginnings.” Sam finished.

“Yes.” He relaxed his hand, slipping his fingers between Samara’s. “So,” Charles took another step closer to Samara, unsure of her response. There was always a fear, the heartache of being left behind. Of not being chosen. But he allowed himself to hope, “Would you still like to hold my hand and have ice cream with me?” 

Sam looked at their entwined fingers, “Hand-holding might be risky, you could get in a lot of trouble with my dad.”

“Oh, I’ve heard the rumors.” Samuel Young’s overprotective nature was not a well-kept secret. “But some things are worth the risk.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“We won’t know until we find out.” It was reckless to consider, given their short reacquaintance. But he wanted to try and take that risk with her. She had grown and changed and he wanted to learn more about the woman she had become. He wanted to listen to her discuss Ruminate and the game development process. He didn’t play video games but he enjoyed puzzles so maybe he could help with beta-testing. And maybe (if they were careful), he could learn how her lips felt pressed to his, to hold her, wanting and breathless against him. “And I think we have a lot of catching up to do.” 

They weren’t the same people they were when they first met, of this she was certain. Maybe he was no longer her fairytale prince. And she wasn’t the kid who used to sit on the stairs just to get a glimpse of life from a distance. But Sam wanted to know more. His likes and dislikes. What happened when he returned to Wales. How his grandfather was doing. To better understand the pain he kept hidden away. Like he said, they had a lot of catching up to do. But she was willing to try. “Then let’s start with ice cream.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get into trouble, eating dessert first.” Charles teased while Samara led him to the ice cream parlor entrance.

“I think,” Sam turned to face Charles, smiling brightly. “You are worth the trouble.”


End file.
